


Dead birds

by moon_hedgehog



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic), The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Witchcraft, biblical and mythology references if you squint hard enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hedgehog/pseuds/moon_hedgehog
Summary: If you're going to destroy me to the ground this is the death I'll dream of.





	Dead birds

**Author's Note:**

> it's hugely inspired by a movie tbh.

Red-red – the color of a scarlet-glistening blood on melted snow – ice-cream with a taste of pomegranate bites his tongue. Henry coils in the farthest corner of a tiny diner, lit by a blinking lamp above his head; it throws on the walls around stains of bluish glares. On his lap rests a battered chemistry book, old as the universe, fished out of the college library in which besides him peep only 5% of other students. He looks pathetic – and probably the guys at the table opposite are joking exactly about that, their wry grins distort the air.

Henry rubs his temple and the lamp goes out, leaving him in a dull darkness.

 

On an algebra class, _someone_ sits nearby him. _Someone_ has disheveled hair resembling tickling spikelets of wheat, bright eyes the color of a foggy forest, and a tattoo of snake curving down the wrist. Henry tries to focus on the material and on the wood of the desk under his fingers but invariably returns his glance sideways. When the bell heralds the end of the lecture, he jumps up from the seat faster than expects from himself; with an elbow knocks the notebook off on the faded parquet and bites his tongue. Stretches to it, but collides with stranger's palm. This _someone_ smiles – it's not that cruel grin he used to see, not at all.

“I'm Edward. Need any help?”

And touches Henry's nose, wiping the blood from under it.

 

There's a lot of people and a lot of light. It dances on the walls and ceiling, peeks from behind the speakers with music and soaks clothes. Henry smiles (weakly), tries to get into the overall rhythm (unsuccessfully) and twists glasses of alcohol in hands (uncertainly). It's not necessary – says Edward – you don't have to drink. You don't have to do anything at all, just enjoy this. Therefore, Henry allows himself to spin to the cheap, clubbish music and quite briefly forget about everything. All in all, stuffiness sneaks into his lungs, and he fearfully grabs Edward's sleeve in the crowd. He turns around (feels), helps to get out of the building (cares), gives one lingering look and suddenly kisses (despairs).

Henry pushes back, runs away – and then vomits dead birds all night long.

 

The next day the taste of bones in his mouth remains, and the next, next and next one. Henry hides in the bathrooms and his own shut apartment while wilting outside the window gives way to hibernation. Spends time on countless portraits of red pen on a white notepad, wandering in the nearest park barefoot, and avoidance of ruddy apples in the stores. The algebra professor angrily pouts her lips on his hushed apologies, bangs a table with her pointer, causing a new wave of gagging urge. In the corridor, Edward blocks his path and catches his hands:

“Don't go.”

The next morning, the algebra professor is found as a burned body at the class of her own, and Henry sobs into his lover's embraces.

 

“H-e-n-r-y.”

By syllables, through teeth, tongue down the skin – Edward whispers his name again and again and Henry wants to howl. Henry is lost in sensations and melts and shrinks under dry lips; thin cracks are being kissed along his neck and collarbone. Clinging to shoulders, he whispers:

“People get hurt when they stick around me.”

But in return receives only muffled laughter. Who even cares – is heard in it – if you're going to destroy me to the ground this is the death I'll dream of. And also unspoken “I love...”. Edward kneels, undoes the zip of his jeans, and everything falls down.

Henry swallows moans while in the flower pot on his bedside table, a tree bears velvet-ruby roses, twining the walls like a parasite.


End file.
